


The Curse of the Black Canary

by caitastrophe8499



Series: Bring Me That Horizon [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29935188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitastrophe8499/pseuds/caitastrophe8499
Summary: "Wherever we want to go, we go. That's what a ship is, you know. It's not just a keel and a hull and sails; that's what a ship needs. Not what a ship is. What the Black Pearl really is, is freedom."Governor's daughter Sara Lance searches for her freedom. Pirate Captain Leonard Snart tries to remember why it's worth fighting for.Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean.Bring Me That Horizon series: Part 1 of 5
Relationships: Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Series: Bring Me That Horizon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201544
Comments: 24
Kudos: 22





	1. Fog Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest and largest project I've undertaken. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it.
> 
> I did remove One Day (temporarily), as I have to retcon some stuff, seeing as how a one-shot wasn't conducive to a larger series. So it will come back up, just with some appropriate fixes later.
> 
> Chapter Titles from Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack

The spray splashed up, drifting across Sara’s hands as she clung to the taffrail of the  _ Arrow. _ She closed her eyes with a smile, feeling the water mist her face. The grey clouds were still present from the storm they’d weathered last night and the two days before, but Sara, even at age thirteen, was well-aware they had gotten off easy in the crossing from England. The storm had tossed and knocked the ship around, but they remained upright and steady. She hadn’t gotten ill, but her father definitely had.

She glanced around, seeing her father, Quentin Lance, the new Governor of Port Royal, at the helm in discussion with the captain. Lieutenant Oliver Queen was still new to his post, but he’d performed admirably on the journey here, or so everyone said. Her father said that great things were in Lieutenant Queen’s future. As she looked, she saw the captain’s gaze drift over to the doors down below, as another familiar face joined the crew on deck.

Laurel’s hair was immaculately curled and held back, her posture perfect as she smiled up at their father, giving a nod to Lieutenant Queen, which he returned, a little deeper than was necessary. Or maybe it was necessary, considering their engagement. Sara narrowed her eyes at them, but softened when Laurel spotted her and headed over.

“You’re up early,” Laurel noted with a smile.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Sara turned her eyes back to the ocean, the water not looking blue, but almost black beneath the clouds. White-capped waves formed at the prow of the ship, dragging backward as they cut through them, the crash of every wave matching the thrum in her heart.

Laurel rested on the rail next to her, not leaning half over as Sara was doing, but lifting her face to the chilled wind just the same. Though Laurel was two years older than her, she was Sara’s closest friend, especially after their mother had passed last year.

“I love sailing,” Sara breathed out.

Laurel opened her eyes, looking down at her with a familiar grin. “Remember when we spent that summer pretending to be pirates?”

With a laugh, Sara pushed her wayward blonde hair, long fallen out of the semi-elegant knot she’d attempted this morning, out of her face. “Of course. You were the Lovely Laurel of the sea, and I was -”

“Salty Sara,” she finished with a laugh. She leaned a little closer to Sara, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “‘Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me. We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot, drink up me hearties, yo ho.’”

“‘We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me hearties, yo -’”

“Hey, none of that, now,” said a massive, bald man, frowning at them. “You want to bring pirates down on us?”

Laurel murmured what might have been an apology, her cheeks turning pink, but Sara glared up at the large man, his scarred arms not scaring her. “Maybe.”

The man’s brows drew even closer together before he let out a rumble that may have been a laugh. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Sara answered, standing her ground.

A new voice spoke up and Sara resisted the urge to sigh.

“Everything all right, Mr. Rory?”

Sara glanced over as Lieutenant Queen and her father approached. Quentin’s brow was arched at her, already knowing the source of the commotion.

Mr. Rory stared at her for another moment, then turned to his captain. “Yessir. Blondie here was singin’ about pirates. We’re testin’ our luck with having two women aboard, even miniature ones. Don’t want to bring pirates down on us, too.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rory. That will be all,” Lieutenant Queen said firmly.

“It was my fault,” Sara said. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Understood,” Lieutenant Queen said.

Sara frowned at him, hoping she hadn’t gotten Mr. Rory in trouble. The big man headed off to the other side of the ship, coiling up a weight of rope with impressive speed. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Queen cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with blue eyes that matched the sea on sunny days, not that they’d had many of those. When she’d first met Lieutenant Queen in England, she hadn’t liked him much. He was too severe, too serious, and he just kept coming around to their house. Eventually, he asked their father for permission to court and eventually marry Laurel, and Sara had liked him even less. Especially when Laurel had accepted. Lieutenant Queen was only a few years older than Laurel but spoke down to Sara every time they had the misfortune to meet.

“A pirate would be no thrill for you, I’m afraid,” Queen said, in that slightly too loud tone as if he was speaking to a child.

“I think it would be rather exciting,” Sara argued. She glanced at Laurel to agree with her, but Laurel’s face was still pink, and she seemed to only have eyes for the captain.

“Think again, Ms. Lance,” Queen said, with one of those tight smiles Sara disliked. “They’re vile and cruel creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see that anyone who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves.”

“What’s that?” Laurel asked, finally finding her voice.

Queen’s smile wasn’t so tight as he looked at Laurel, who smiled back at him. “A short drop and a sudden stop.”

Sara frowned, not quite understanding. From behind Lieutenant Queen, she saw Mr. Rory look back at her. He put the rope down and grabbed his own collar, pulling it up and letting his eyes roll back. Her own eyes widened and she turned back to Lieutenant Queen, her mouth already open to ask for more details, but her father cut in.

“I appreciate your fervor, Lieutenant Queen,” Quentin said diplomatically. “But I’m concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my daughters.”

Queen almost flushed, which nearly made the whole conversation worth it. “My apologies, Governor Lance.” He looked down at Laurel. “Would you like to talk a turn about the deck, Ms. Lance?”

Laurel’s blush was deeper now, but beautiful nonetheless. “Yes, thank you.”

Sara watched in irritation as Laurel took Lieutenant Queen’s arm as they walked around the deck. Laurel smiled up at him as he spoke, and Queen seemed to be good enough company for her, at least.

“I still think pirates are fascinating,” Sara muttered, leaning against the rail again.

Quentin sighed and leaned next to her, but his eyes danced. “I know, that’s what concerns me.”

Laurel laughed and Sara’s shoulders hunched in, the cotton of her dress pinching at her skin.

Quentin put his hand on her shoulder gently, and Sara leaned into him. He inhaled deeply and Sara closed her eyes, letting the sound of the waves soothe her anger.

Quentin spoke quietly, his arm still around her shoulders. “You girls are growing up. There will be lots of changes in our future and Lieutenant Queen is going to be a large part of them. So for my sake, for Laurel’s sake, try not to irritate Lieutenant Queen too much.”

“I’ll try,” Sara said, promising nothing.

He chuckled faintly, squeezing her a bit. “It’s a brand new world we’re heading to. Pirates won’t be nearly so interesting when we get there to see the rest of it.” He kissed the top of her unruly hair and returned to the helm, intercepting Laurel and Queen on the way, the three of them conversing easily.

Sara turned back to the ocean, the gray sky and stormy waves more welcome company, the wind tugging her hair free from its constraints and pushing her closer to the rail. Rebelliously, under her breath, she sang, “‘We're rascals and scoundrels, we're villains and knaves. Drink up me hearties, yo...’”

Trailing off, Sara frowned out the horizon, where a dark shape was forming. She recognized the shape of a ship, but the black sails were different, and there was something waving above the night-dark sails, a flag. A black flag with a skull and, in the corner, a -

* * *

With a gasp, Sara awoke in her bed, her breath coming shorter as she tried to orient herself.

She was in her bed in Port Royal, in the house she’d been living in for seven years. She sat up, trying to catch her breath, but her eyes caught a glint of gold on her nightstand. With a pang in her heart that had yet to fade, Sara opened up the locket, looking at the miniature painting of Laurel inside. Swallowing back the tears the dream and memory had brought, Sara closed the locket and got to her feet, getting her robe. Tugging it over her arms, she crossed over to her curtains and tugged them open. The sun entered the room, warming her sweat-chilled skin and Sara looked out over her home.

At the edge of the mansion, trees hugged the property line, the sound of songbirds and animals loud even this far away from it. Even better, down the hill the mansion was perched upon, Sara could see a huge expanse of teal water, darkening as it stretched to the smaller islands around them, the only clouds in the sky faint wisps and nothing more. She couldn’t hear the sounds of the waves from here, but at least she could see them.

A knock at her door made her jump and she turned away from the window.

“Sara? Are you decent?”

Recognizing Quentin’s voice, Sara crossed over and opened it. “Yes.”

Quentin softened but didn’t smile upon seeing her. “A beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she agreed quietly as the maids carried in a large box. She paid them no mind, however, her eyes on her father. The lines of grief and age showing more deeply today than usual.

Laurel’s death had been tough on them all, but especially on Quentin. The illness that had taken her could have just as easily been contracted in England, but he blamed himself and the move for Laurel’s passing. Sara hadn’t caught it, but that was because she’d been forbidden from stepping foot inside Laurel’s room for weeks. They talked through the door until Laurel had grown too weary for that. Sara began sneaking out of the window, climbing over to the balcony outside Laurel’s room just to see her through the glass. Four years hadn’t been long enough to dull the pain and she suspected that it would never fade entirely.

Quentin seemed to shake off the melancholy, at least for the moment. He gestured to the box. “I have a gift for you.”

Lifting off the lid, Sara took a long look at the cream and ivory-colored gown inside of it. She forced a smile. “It’s beautiful,” she said, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

He gestured toward the partition and Sara headed over with her maid, a dark-haired waif named Cindy, who began to help her get dressed. Sara eyed the gown with hidden distaste, raising her voice over the partition. “Might I inquire as to the occasion?”

“Do I need an occasion to dote upon my daughter?” he asked.

Another two maids joined her, one of whom was carrying an unfamiliar garment in her arms. Sara was too busy trying to divine its function that she was only half paying attention when Quentin spoke again.

“Actually, I...I hoped you might wear it for the ceremony today.”

“Ceremony?” Sara asked, frowning at the partition.

“Captain Queen’s promotion ceremony.”

Sara leaned over to cut her eyes at her father, irritated at his attempts to buy her obedience. “I knew it.”

“Commodore Queen,” he corrected himself quietly, “as he’s about to become.”

Sara withdrew back behind the partition as Cindy wrapped the new thing around her and the two in the back began to lace it up. Sara attempted to exhale her anger, and the maids pulled tightly on the laces, expelling the air out of her. She made a face at Cindy, who winced, but shrugged and continued pulling.

“He’s a good man,” Quentin was saying. “A fine gentleman. He cares for you, you know.”

Sara knew that it was true, in a way. But it wasn’t the way one should care for the person they wanted to marry. It wasn’t the way he’d cared for Laurel.

She must have been silent for too long because Quentin spoke up again. “How’s it coming, Sara?”

Attempting to draw in a breath was futile. “Difficult to say.”

“I’m told it’s the latest fashion in London.”

“Well,” Sara said, wincing as Cindy went back and helped tighten the laces even further, “women in London must have learned not to breathe.” She felt her ribs complaining but kept quiet as the maids finally stopped pulling and tied them off. Sara tried to take in a deep breath, but the thing stopped her. Shallowly, she breathed a few times, just enough to ease off the panic as the maids grabbed the dress.

“I know Commodore Queen isn’t your favorite person,” Quentin continued, “but he would take care of you. I want to see you taken care of, Sara. I want to know that you’ll be safe when I’m gone. Commodore Queen is a good friend and a good man, and it’s a good match. We both know that your prospects are...limited.”

If Sara had any breath to lose, it would have happened then. She was well aware that her prospects were limited because they were entirely due to her actions.

The new world her father had promised her hadn’t been new enough. Sara’s attempt to learn anything other than the traditional roles ladies filled, like sailing or blacksmithing, had been met with stern resistance. So she stopped asking and merely began doing. She dressed as a boy, with the help of a few of the servants, and snuck out to town, even managing to secure an apprenticeship with the blacksmith that lasted almost a year. She started a relationship with the miller’s daughter next door to the smith’s but was found out. It had been chaos for some time.

She stayed close to home for a while after that, not because of her father’s threat to gate her up inside the mansion, which was unlikely, but because of Laurel’s insistence that she not ruin things between her and Oliver. So Sara stayed in, for her sister’s sake. The engagement had continued, and everyone except Sara was happy.

Then Laurel died.

As her father retreated into himself and his work, Sara’s freedom expanded again. She was more careful this time, using a leather breastband to hide, and borrowing clothes from the servants, with and without their knowledge. She befriended some of the sailors down by the beach, who taught her the basics of sailing, under the impression that she was some soldier’s younger son. As long as she brought them food, which was easy enough for her, they’d tell her anything she wanted to know. One of them had found out, because Sara had grown fond of him, and the two of them had a short relationship that had never evolved beyond a few kisses.

She’d been taught a lot and observed even more - shooting, sword fighting, sailing - and nearly lived at the beach and in the water. Then Oliver suggested his idea to her father, and the freedom she’d held so precious was gone again. Now, Quentin was focused on making sure she was taken care of, constantly bringing her to every ceremony and fancy to-do, to show how proper she was, and how good a match it would be for both of them.

And when she married Oliver, it would only get worse.

“It would be a good match,” she murmured.

The maids finished getting her dressed in silence, her father quiet as well. She stood still as they tugged and pulled at her hair to curl it appropriately. As they smoothed down the wrinkles in the cream and gold gown. It was lovely but wasn’t quite suited for Sara’s pale and freckled form. It would be more suited for someone like Laurel.

Cindy nodded at her, handing her the small parasol that went with it, to protect her fair skin from the sun. Sara took it, the weight nothing like a sword, and stepped out.

Quentin looked at her as she appeared, unable to breathe and her hair uncomfortable and her face unsmiling.

“You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He stared at her for another moment, his eyes darting between hers. “Sara, I…”

She waited, but he merely gave her a tight grimace that might once have been a smile. “Shall we? I feel today is going to be a very important day.” He held out his arm to her.

Sara took a shallow breath, then his arm. Quentin patted her hand briefly.

“Everything’s going to change today, Sara. I can feel it.”

“So can I.”


	2. The Medallion Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles taken from the PIrates of the Caribbean soundtrack.
> 
> Massive thanks to Tavyn and SylvanHeather for helping me out by betaing!

Captain Leonard Snart, standing on top of his sinking boat with the wind at his back, silently admitted that his plan hadn’t gone  _ entirely  _ as expected.

Holding onto the mast of the boat, he eyed the distance to the harbor. He could make it. Most likely. Looking down, he saw the water filling up the bottom of his boat and hopped down, his boots landing in a good three inches of water. He grabbed the bucket he’d used earlier and began to bail it out, buying himself a bit more time. The edges of his black coat were getting damp, but it had survived far worse before.

Bailing out the bottom of the boat took a few minutes as the sail dragged him further and further to the harbor. In the process of hurling over another bucketful, he paused, his sharp blue eyes noticing three figures on one of the cove’s small archways.

Their feet, what was left of them, dangled several feet above the foaming waves. The ropes around what remained of their necks let them dance mid-air, exposed bones clattering in the wind. At the top of the center man was a sign:

_ Pirates - Ye be warned _

Leonard tipped his hat at the bodies. Warning received.

Continuing to bail out what he could, Leonard checked the distance again and, giving up the small boat as a lost cause, climbed back up the mast.

His little boat drifted into the harbor, steadily sinking lower and lower, but he’d timed it perfectly. Just as the boat hit the bottom of the port, Leonard was able to step off and onto the dock, leaving his boat underwater.

Starting off across the dock, Leonard moved quickly and almost made it to the edge of the pier when he heard a voice call after him.

“Hey, hold up, there! You!”

Leonard paused and turned, eyeing the squat man. He was holding a ledger and the young man trailing after him was clearly an apprentice. Harbormaster it was, then.

“It’s a shilling to tie up your boat at the dock,” the harbormaster continued, raising his nose slightly. It didn’t do much, as Leonard was still several inches taller.

Leonard very pointedly looked at what was left of his boat, the tip of the sail drifting in the surf. The harbormaster looked, too, but kept a straight face.

“And shall need to know your name.” He opened the ledger and drew out his quill.

With a charming smile, Leonard walked a little closer, drawing out a few coins from his pouch. “What do you say to three shillings, and we forget the name?” he drawled out, in the low voice that always seemed to get him what he wanted.

He kept his eyes on the harbormaster, who glanced around briefly.

“Welcome to Port Royal,” the harbormaster said, shutting his book, “Mr. Smith.”

Leonard gave him a wink, then proceeded towards the end of the dock, where the harbormaster’s table was. Sitting atop it was a mostly full money pouch. With a deft hand and a smile, Leonard made up his three shillings and then some.

With a decent pace and an expression of irritated haste, Leonard made his way through the public area of the docks without being stopped again. He reached into his pocket, pulling out an ever-present gold coin, and rolled it over his fingers as he walked, the metal clinking against the rings he wore as he eyed the port around him.

When he didn’t make the rendezvous with Mick three days ago, the plan was to stop off on the easternmost side of Port Royal before proceeding on to Tortuga. He knew he could always meet up with his crew there, but it would be far more convenient if he didn’t have to find his own passage.

He heard a faint sound of drumming from above, where the fort was located, and paused for the first time. Leonard listened, hearing a faint voice. Some sort of ceremony, which meant…

Looking back at where he had just walked through, he noticed a distinct lack of red coats. Mick wouldn’t be expecting him until dark. The plan was for him to lay low until then, and meet up with Mick without anyone here being the wiser.

Well, plans were made to be thrown away.

Pocketing his coin and retracing part of his route, Leonard moved towards the navy’s ships. A pair of guards were there, but they were talking amongst themselves, and it was all too easy for Leonard to slip past them and aboard the largest ship at the dock - the  _ Queen’s Arrow. _

Familiar with the layout, Leonard was into the works in just a few moments, but when he came back topside and got back on the gangplank, the guards saw him.

“Oi! You! This dock is off-limits to civilians!” the larger one shouted. They ran up, blocking him on the gangplank, guns aimed at him.

Leonard inclined his head and put up his hands. “Terribly sorry, must have gotten turned around here.”

The other one narrowed his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Smith.” Leonard took off his hat in a greeting, his gray and black hair cut much shorter than was fashionable, but it was far more convenient for him.

“What’s your purpose in Port Royal, Mr. Smith?” he asked, a little pointedly.

“No lies,” added the other one.

Putting his hands in his belt, Leonard answered. “Well, then, it’s my intention to scuttle all of these ships, before making my way to Tortuga on my ship, where I’ll raid, pillage, plunder, and pilfer.”

“I said no lies.”

The thinner man frowned. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“If he were telling the truth, he wouldn’t have told us.”

“Unless,” Leonard said conspiratorially, “he knew you wouldn’t believe the truth, even if he told it to you.”

The guards paused, the guns lowering slightly as they stared at him in confusion.

Leonard smirked at them, unconcerned.

What was life without a little risk?

* * *

Sara shifted uncomfortably in the warm sun, trying to pay attention as Oliver was rewarded for his years of service with a sword and a new title. She inhaled as much as she could, but the heat was oppressive and she was having a hard time catching her breath. She’d even resorted to using a fan to try and give herself some relief, to no avail.

Luckily for her, the ceremony was almost over. All she had to do was make it through this, and she’d feign a headache to get home and get out of this damned corset and -

Applause began to echo around her as Oliver was named Commodore Queen. Slowly, ever so slowly, the crowd began to thin out, heading towards the gate and the shade. Sara made her way there as expeditiously as she could.

“Miss Lance?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned to face Oliver.

The years had been kind to him. Only a few new lines to mar his face and his eyes were as keen as ever. Sara had seen much of him, especially recently, though he seemed more concerned with talking to her father than talking to her. He took a step closer.

“May I have a moment?”

Sara gritted her teeth in an approximation of a smile and followed Oliver as he led her to a small platform at the edge of the fort. It overlooked the water and the navy’s ships. Sara put her hand on the stone archway, still trying to fan herself.

“You look lovely, Sara,” Oliver said, slightly stilted.

She gave him a small smile, unable to do much else. Moving had made the heat worse, and she turned her face towards the water and the wind, the rocks spinning slightly beneath her feet.

“I apologize if I seem forward, but I…” Oliver cleared his throat. “This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved. A marriage to a fine woman.”

Sara’s heart pinched, unrelated to the corset, as her mind went to Laurel. Had she lived, she and Oliver would have been married for two years already.

“You know I care deeply for your family, and want to see you taken care of,” Oliver continued, his eyes on the water and not at her. “We have been close for years, and would have been family already, had not…” he trailed off and cleared his throat. “Since then, I’ve watched you grow from a wild and rambunctious child to a very beautiful and proper lady. You have become a fine woman, Sara.”

Her vision swam, though with tears and dizziness, she couldn’t tell. She tried to reach for the rock, but her hand seemed to slip.

“I - I can’t breathe,” Sara managed to whisper, her grip on the fan failing as she dropped it to the ground.

Oliver gave a little laugh, not looking at her still. “Yes, I’m a bit nervous myself.”

Sara tried to ask for help, but couldn’t breathe at all. She couldn’t catch herself as her vision went dark, and the last thing she saw was the water in front of her, getting ever closer.

* * *

“...and then they made me their chief,” Leonard finished.

The guards, Murtogg and Mullroy, stared at him, half in wonder and half in disbelief, and Leonard played with the idea of telling them about the diamonds, but before he could, there was a splash off to the side of the ship.

Rising from the deck of the _ Arrow,  _ Leonard saw a flash of ivory and gold in the clear waters before someone up at the fort shouted down.

“Sara!” the distant voice yelled, and Leonard realized what had happened.

The girl was sinking further into the water, some thirty feet away. Leonard glanced at the guards, who’d also gotten to their feet. “Will you be saving her, then?”

“I can’t swim,” Mullroy murmured, staring at the water.

Murtogg merely looked blankly at Leonard when he cut his eyes over at him.

“Pride of the King’s Navy, you are,” Leonard muttered. He did hesitate, for a moment. Drowning was something he’d only wish on his worst enemies, and had only delivered to one of them. But to allow it to happen to some girl...

She sank further down and Leonard knew he couldn’t just let her die. Mick would laugh himself silly at the idea, but Leonard did have some morals.

Loosening his belt, Leonard handed over his pistol, compass, money pouch, and sword, dropping his hat into Mullroy’s still hands and shucking off his jacket. “Do not lose these,” he ordered sternly.

Climbing onto the railing, Leonard cursed the ineptitude of the navy and dove into the water. It was clear enough that he could easily see the sinking woman. For a wild moment, his strokes hesitated, the stories Gary told after dinner coming back to him. Of beautiful sirens that lured sailors and pirates to the doom at the bottom of the sea. Leonard didn’t believe in those types of stories, but if he did, this woman might convince him. Blonde hair billowed out around her pale and delicate features, the dress giving the illusion of flying through the water.

Leonard shook his head and continued forward. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving; perhaps the fall had already killed her. Unsure, Leonard pressed forward, reaching her just as she hit the bottom. She was tiny, but the fancy dress was heavy with water and she was dead weight. Grabbing the bodice of the dress, he split it down the center, leaving it to the sand as he wrapped his arm around her narrow waist and kicked off of the ground.

He took in a deep breath as his head broke the surface, but the girl didn’t react at all.

Getting to the dock, Leonard was somewhat relieved to see Murtogg and Mullroy had recovered enough to reach out, helping the woman onto the planks as Leonard heaved himself out of the water on his own. 

“She’s not breathing,” Murtogg said, his voice high in concern.

Leonard grabbed his knife from his boot. “Move!”

Shoving Mullroy aside, Leonard sliced up the center of the corset and the woman immediately began to cough, retching up seawater as she tried to catch her breath. Sitting back on his heels, Leonard sheathed his knife, mostly assured that she would live. There were shouts coming from the path leading from the fort, and he figured there would be more than enough hands to deal with her now. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to leave until he was certain she was taken care of.

“Never would have thought of that,” Mullroy murmured.

Leonard chuckled despite himself, wiping the water off of his face. “Clearly you’ve never been to Singapore.” He leaned a bit closer to her, making sure she was actually conscious.

She coughed, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand before looking at him. Her hair was a waterlogged mess of blonde hair and seawater, though she didn’t seem to be sporting all the face paints the woman in Tortuga usually did. Without the dress or corset, she would be considered indecent, but Leonard didn’t look away. Her blue eyes caught his, a clear Caribbean blue, as if she was part ocean herself.

She glanced up to the fort, a note of panic appearing in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Leonard eyed the drop from the fort, mildly amazed she hadn’t died in the fall. He looked back at her, curious despite himself.

“What were you trying to run from?”

Her mouth parted, but before she could answer, boots hit the dock and a sword was immediately thrust just below Leonard’s chin.

“On your feet,” a fierce voice ordered.

Leonard glanced up at the swordsman, unsurprised to see the red coat of a navy officer, and the unforgiving gaze of patriotism. Slowly, he stood, keeping his hands away from his knife. Behind the officer stood a small contingent of soldiers, guns in hand and aiming at him.

A well-off, older man moved past him and towards the girl, taking off his blue coat and putting it around her shoulder. “Sara, are you alright?” he asked, the obvious concern and white wig leading Leonard to believe he was her father.

“I’m fine,” the girl said, having fallen fifty feet and nearly drowning.

Leonard chuckled at that, catching her eye with a grin. Fine, indeed. Most girls would be fainting and falling, within reason. But this one…

She started to smile back, sea-blue eyes dancing, but her father looked at Murtogg, who was still holding the corset.

Murtogg, spineless cuttlefish that he was, immediately pointed to Leonard.

Leonard wiped the smile off his face and met the father’s eyes, but the man’s gaze narrowed and he ordered, “Shoot him.”

The hammers clicked back and Leonard thought that maybe there was something to be said for sticking to the plan after all.


End file.
